Unlikely Victors
by The Young Cynic
Summary: Outcasts are an integral part of any hierarchy, and underdogs are the only ones who ever truly gain anything from success - The question only lies in how.
1. Kismet

**[**This is my first major piece of work in a long, long time and I wholly intend to follow through with it. I'm having fun writing it so far, because my friends will enjoy it. If it attracts fans then that's wonderful. And if it doesn't, I get the practice.]

**ooooo**

_The first thing they tell you to in broom-riding lessons is __**not**__ to let go of the broom It's a common mistake novices make, when they're caught up in the exhilaration of flight - hair flowing in the wind, sun glinting off the golden snitch fluttering just out of reach of your grasp._

I guess that's what got me into this predicament in the first place.

As soon as its wingtip ghosted against my fingertips I was lost in sensation – the sensation of falling, a heartbeat thrumming so loudly in my ears I thought it could be someone else's, and an unspoken curse on my mother's choice in cheap brooms. The burden of weightlessness relieved when I was caught by something other than the ground… or at least he intercepted the ground's catch, a flash of black and gold. Contact wasn't as hard as I anticipated but I mustn't have been far from the ground when my savior got a hold on me. He took the brunt of the impact (as a broken arm and dislocated shoulder would evidence later), with myself pulled into his chest by one strong arm. It would have seemed ideally intimate if it weren't for circumstance and a bit of panic on my part. The spherical idol locked in my grasp wasn't worth considering with a golden-haired angel humbly denouncing the merit of his actions with his head in my lap. Only when I opened the hand to empty it so I could flag down my teammates did I notice it. So did he, as its wings twittered imperceptibly.

"I was chasing the Snitch, but I caught you instead." Struggling and failing to suppress a pained whimper, humor touching his eyes and bleeding into his voice. "I'd venture to say Hufflepuff really won this match, gorgeous." Then, he laid his head back down and lids closed over those blue-green eyes as our teammates, classmates closed in on us.

**ooooo**

There's always a certain amount of fussing to be dealt with when injured in the company of Hufflepuffs, but in the spirit of emergency my merely sprained wrist and his more severely injured arm were taken care of at the behest of one Mrs. Elwood, Ravenclaw house head. Neither team celebrated or lamented the victory as far as I could see, which wasn't particularly far due to the fact that I haunted around my savior's bed until Madame Shepherd shooed me from the nursing quarter.

I hadn't gotten out of the door properly when something fell against my head softly. A roll of newspaper I presumed without seeing much of it as it opened over my head and slid off.

"Oh, ow. I think I need to get Madame S to check out this wicked papercut or something." I deadpanned sarcastically, if not with a touch of humor. It was an excuse, and I even fumbled for the doorknob as if I thought it would help my case. But it was too late, my uninjured arm linked around my friend's and the newspaper tucked under my other arm hastily with little pain.

"Don't ever go pulling stunts like that again," I struggled to keep up with Broderick's brisk pace and long strides, owing to my much smaller frame for the deficiency. "We couldn't win a thing without you. And the Quidditch team would suffer, too." I had to laugh at that, glad to have a friend who could advise me without sounding like my mother.

"I'll try not to. I guess you get more mindful of being a hundred feet in the air when you've fallen."

"You're lucky Ariston was there." We came to a stop, Broderick taking a moment to stroke his soul patch. His dark eyes focused intensely on a spot on the wall while he thought. "It's already all over the school papers."

"Ariston. That's his name, the one with the nice eyes?" I had to stare at the chandelier dangling overhead, students released from class beginning to pass by in the intersection.

"Yeah, and the amazing hair. But, that's not important right now." He clasped a hand down on my shoulder. "You know… "

"Yeah, I know. If we'd been playing Slytherin they'd have let me fall." He nodded, right as I caught a flash of green in the corner of my eye.

"Oh _really_?" Squawked one bleached-blond girl in a familiarly green uniform, standing before me with arms crossed. (Her duller twin echoed with a much less resounding "Yeah really?") The dress-code had become rather lax in Hogwarts over the years, the only reason that girl and her shadowing twin were allowed to wear floor-length plaid robes in a ghastly shade of lime green. "Better watch where you step, miss Stratton. You might fall and hurt yourself again."She hissed. ("Hurt yourself again!" her twin parroted.) Broderick wisely sought to intervene by pulling us apart.

"Now, let's be civil here girls…" But nothing could prevent the two of us from having a petty spat, especially as the hall began to clear of people heading to the great hall for dinner.

"Oh, no, no. Can't you see these ladies are in need of help?" drawing my wand from my sleeve. "Ricky, do you remember the spell that undoes bad dye jobs? Or the one that buys less garish coats?" A foolish flick of my wrist saved him from being dragged into our cattish mess, pain feeling as if it split through my entire arm. The wand fell from my hand and I took one ragged breath, maintaining balance by holding onto Broderick's arm for a moment. _Not smart, _I thought as I watched smug grins split the twin's faces.

"Now listen here, _Scout_. It'd be in your best interests to keep your hands off Ariston Sedgel." She poked a finger into my chest, well lacquered nail digging into my skin through my sweater vest, but the way she hissed my moniker grated on my nerves more than the contact. "Yours too." She said just as severely to Broderick, prompting a look between the two of us. We almost missed the sound of heavy footfalls resounding against the hard stone floor, but when a pair of pale hands wrenched both twins back by their tackily-dyed hair we were all aware of dear friend who'd been lurking about: The ever so helpful, if not brash, Dawn Jenrich. A head taller than the squad twins and much more fashionable with the shade of green given to her, our feisty friend nearly dragged the two up from the floor by their tackily-dyed hair.

"YOU bitches listen. _Touch or even say a word I don't fuckin' like to Scout or Ricky ever again and I'll break off all your fingers and mail them to your parents._" She really would.

"Back off, Dawn… or we'll tell what you did to Charlie on the stairwell!" The offending twin hissed through gritted teeth, sour expression screwed ungracefully. ("Johnny on the stairwell!" Her sister cried almost tearfully, as if the memory of 'Johnny' and his fate pained her further).

"I'll do to you what I did to Charlie on the stairwell if you two don't shut the fuck up, God." Before she could bring further harm to them, something our Slytherin friend had to qualms in doing. "You okay, girl? That was a nasty spill, and Rod here almost cried." Broderick stiffened and crossed his arms.

"I didn't almost cry… did I?" He questioned, but got no answer. Instead, he retrieved my wand and stood by to listen.

"Yeah. It'll take more than a hundred foot fall to take me out." That wasn't true, but it sounded cool to say. It made Dawn chuckle, so I didn't feel as lame.

"I heard you had a sexy meat cushion." My cheeks burned at the way my scarlet-haired friend put that statement, but I nodded.

"Yeah, um… Ariston, right?"

"Uh-huh, the Hufflepuff team's seeker, real sexy guy right? I say you go back down tomorrow and… _check_ on 'em." Her hazel eyes glittered mischievously with a glint that said "If you won't, I will."

"I guess I wi-" Our casual conversation was interrupted by another voice, demanding the twins be released first and foremost. This was no ordinary hall monitor, and thankfully not a faculty member, but the almighty Prefect. Gryffindor Head girl, Ivory, came to the rescue of the dreadful twins who scattered off into separate dark hallways when released – Broderick and I agreeing on the fact that the dull one would probably get lost. When Ivory was done chewing out an unperturbed Dawn (who excused herself for dinner thereafter), she turned her fury on me.

"Don't you know that's crazy? What will mum say when she hears you almost killed yourself over a dollar store snitch?" I felt a fluttering in my pocket, as if the snitch itself were offended. Ivory wasn't to be blamed for losing her temper, but at the moment I wasn't quite acting rationally.

"I know, and I didn't do it on purpose. Mum _won't _know." I wanted to say she wouldn't be the one to tell her, but I'm not so brave as to step in Ivory's way. Superficially, we looked somewhat alike: Dark skin, ebony hair, eyes with a keen spark of knowledge and similarly slim, petite frames. Our similarities stopped there; from the confident Gryffindor air she carried herself with, to my choice in striped scarves and knee socks we were different. An inexorable difference in attitude that carried itself into every aspect of our personalities', dress and activities that caused conflict. I'd only taken up Quidditch in the first place because I knew it was one thing she'd never have the courage to do, though I'd come to enjoy it far more than I'd have expected to.

"We won't embarrass ourselves out here, arguing. Let's go to dinner and talk. Alright?" She said, voice softening. She hadn't meant to upset me, but I couldn't be bothered to do much more today. A heavy tiredness lingered in my bones, and my wrist ached. I waved my hand, not giving her to a chance to pressure me into something, anything that would involve informing mother of the incident. She was as close a friend as I to the rest of the group. But it felt like she simply had to have an _infuriating_ measure of control over me and what I chose to do. Maybe it was just imagined, the product of my contemplative nature and a little jealousy.

"No, you go on Ivy. We'll head onto bed." Spoke Broderick, as if he'd read my mind. To my surprise she didn't correct him on flubbing her name (probably on purpose), only huffed and marched off towards the Great Hall. When it seemed as if Ivory was far off he looked around one last time and asked… "Is it that obvious?"

"Maybe," I answered cryptically, pulling my scarf up over my mouth to hide my grin as we linked arms and pranced off to the Ravenclaw commons.


	2. Imbroglio

**[**Even more fun to write than the last chapter. Please review, critique and enjoy!**]**

**ooooo**

He never had been good with schoolwork, and never would be. It was no surprise that Professor Solomon would ask to see him after class, or chew him out for turning in homework with nothing but a dragon scribbled crudely down one side (and even that was the work of Scout). With a point or two deducted from Slytherin house for his slacking, Rockwell was really no worse for wear. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his ill-fitting jeans as he trudged down the hallway, and staring at his feet while he walked to keep himself from lurching over in one direction too far. Long, dark and dreaded hair obscured all view of his face, but he recalled, rather randomly, Darien calling it "Fabio-esque" once at lunch. ("Fabio, if he were black!", Dawn had declared). Finding himself only able to muster a sigh after being the target of a rowdy group of first year's Aguamenti, bumping into the chest of someone wearing rainbow-striped socks.

"Hey, Rockwell. You're okay, right?" He lifted his head, looking the girl in the bright yellow sweater with long, straight brown hair before him in the eye.

"Wot?" He drawled tiredly, Aussie accent audible for a moment. "Oh, ah'm fine." He mumbled. "Dawn sucked me dry last night and I'm re-" A hand clamped over his mouth for a moment, and he found himself pulled forward by his shoulder by his Hufflepuff counterpart.

"Shhh!" Helena whispered briskly. "Do you know what'll happen if people find out she's a vampire?"

"R-right." Rockwell muttered. "Permanent… expulsion." His voice rattled, as the prospect of school without Dawn was terrifying. She'd stood up for him more times than he could count in the past few years, and school would be boring without his favorite ginger.

"Just like if they found out you were a we-".

"Found out if he was a what?" interjected a voice, a hand falling on Helena's shoulder and surprising her. That voice belonged to Sabrina, Helena's Gryffindor cousin who wore lengthy, deep scarlet robes and her hair pulled back from her face. She looked, and acted in a much more polite and polished manner than her cousin, but both retained a constantly graceful air.

"Oh, um…" The Helena fumbled for words. Rockwell was the one to speak next, thankfully.

"A wizard. My adoptive parents are both Muggles." He stated plainly, more smoothly than he thought possible. He had a stutter that presented itself when he was most nervous. Sabrina nodded, seeming to understand.

"Alright. Be careful not to let them know. Or be late for Herbology." Not that the gracious Professor Drake would mind, since the man was far too busy sampling his own choice selections of herb to notice. He recalled Ivory leaving class to make popcorn (with use of a microwave acquired in Muggle studies, no less) without the man noticing.

"Oh, shit!" Helena seemed more concerned about getting to class, since the relatively recent transfer from Beauxbatons had experienced quite a few harsh punishments for sticking around in the bathroom to converse with ghosts before. She had a breezy nature that her modelesque, aquiline features and impeccable fashion sense would never hint at. The girl snagged him by the arm and dragged him down the hall, on the way to garden without delay.

It was really a marvel, how quickly a girl in heels could move.

**ooooo**

It was a sunny day out at Hogwarts, birds twittering and bees buzzing hardily. The emerald grasses grew high around the pleasantly rickety greenhouse's edges, a maze of Technicolor flowers walling in the smaller medicinal garden in which class was held.

Of course, this fair weather spelt misfortune for the cast of misfits that seemed packed into the class. Arriving late, Rockwell and Helena joined Scout and Dawn (capable of walking in sunlight, but "as prone to burnin' as any ginger", in her words.)in crouching in the shadows, seeming to enjoy idle silence while watching Broderick horseplay with the guys and ending up flat on his back as usual, something that would always be amusing to watch.

"Every time there's an awkward silence, a gay baby is born." Spoke Dawn, a few spontaneously spoken words livening up the group.

"Is that how we got Rocky?" questioned Scout, which made the other girls snicker while Rockwell scowled.

"I know there's no God because if there were _he'd have never given you two voiceboxes." _Rocky seethed, though his heart wasn't in it. He was obviously distracted, and kept shifting in his spot. "What's the date guys?" the second question was forgotten as Helena gave him a heavy-handed pat on the back.

"Oh, you know they're just picking! Buuut… while we're on the subject, how's your boyfriend at Durmstrang?" His cheeks heated, and the embarrassed gaze he turned on his hands prompted a few squeals from Dawn and Scout.

"H-he's fine. Jus' joined the Quidditch team, so he might be coming down for a match um… next month." He immediately regretted bringing it up, because soon the girls were going on about what outfit he'd wear, how he'd wear his hair… and strangely baseball. Luckily, Broderick seemed to sense his distress and came to the rescue – mentioning something about a cat and dragging Rockwell off.

"Ooh, Scout." Dawn hugged her around her shoulders, pulling her close. Likely, so she wouldn't be able to escape the probing to be done. "You been to see mister Sedgel yet?" She said, teasing.

"N-no…" Scout muttered lowly.

"If you won't, I will. Go on now, 'fore Ricky comes back and says something sensible that'd make you decide not to." Urging Scout to leave and leave quickly, while Professor Drake rummaged around in the greenhouse for some herb he'd spent the entire class period searching for.

**ooooo**

"He probably smoked it." Helena alleged while the three of us made our way through the flowery maze together and clearing the way through impressively tall walls of flower, with Helena casting Evanesco, rather than navigating the maze for time's sake. I thought I saw a something move in the corner of my eye and nearly jumped - fearing a snake or worse.

"We're going to come back through here with a Deletrius – I feel like we're leaving tracks." Scout worried aloud. Dawn tapped her on the forehead with her wand. "Ow. Did either of you see that?"

"Shh, don't worry." purred Dawn. And I was quiet after that, nervously listening to my escorts joke and focusing on breathing and walking. I was fine for a while, but then the nerves returned. Had I brushed my hair well enough? Were there dark circles under my eyes? The apprehensive young Ravenclaw was fine for a while, but coming down the hall that lead to the nurse's quarter she felt her heart leap into her throat. Partially because coming up the hall toward her was Ariston, accompanied by an older boy with slightly lighter hair and a shimmering gold cape.

"Guys?" A beat passed. There was no answer, and Scout turned to see no trace of Dawn or Helena. The snitch in her pocket fluttered again, as if to remind her just what got her into this predicament. A hand fell on her shoulder, and she turned to face the boy with the golden cape. He was just as handsome as his cohort, but with much longer hair that framed his face and allowed just a peek at the warm, chocolaty eyes beneath.

"Your friends, they Apparated." He flashed a thousand-watt smile and flipped his hair (which seemed to move all at once then came to sit with no strand out of place, interestingly). "That happens a lot around me, it seems. I'm Justin." Scout turned fully so she could shake his hand, an affair that lasted a brief moment. After one shake he flipped his wand from behind his ear and Apparated, leaving her standing there while her hand gripped emptily at a cloud of smoke. The smoke gave way to just the face she'd been hoping (and dreading) to see, but she was still too confused to know what to say.

"He thinks it's funny to do to people, regardless of how ungentlemanly it is." Spoke Ariston, extending a hand to her. As soon as she took it she was lead back down the hall while he spoke animatedly. "Justin isn't really a jerk; you've just got to get to know him. Your name is Keigh, isn't it?"

Suddenly forgetting to speak, she worked out the mechanics of speech and conversation long enough to blurt something. "Scout!" nearly squeaking the name. "Um, I mean I'm Keigh, b-but I'm Scout too. Er, well…"

"Oh, your nickname is Scout?" He understood, thankfully. She opted to nod instead. "That's a cool nickname. I wish I had one. Where'd you get it?"

"Oh, when I was a first year. I've always been good at finding things, and kids started calling me Scout when I caught headmaster Deetwood's phoenix after it flew off, injured." It had been so long ago, but she remembered abandoning her team in a Quidditch match to catch something more important than a snitch. Reminiscing would

"Really?" He sounded astonished, pulling the two of them to a stop on the midst of a stairwell. "As a seeker, I'm intimidated by the competition. But I've caught something more amazing." He smiled charmingly. "An angel. Broke an arm and dislocated my shoulder, but it was worth it." The compliment caught her off guard, but her expression changed for another reason.

"Ah! I'm terrible, really." She said, pulling her hand away from his and resting her eyes guilty on the arm in a sling. "I didn't even apologize. You should've let me kiss the dirt." He shook his head vigorously, taking up her hand again and kissing it.

"Darling," he eased in his silken voice. "I value a human life far more than an arm that'll heal after a few weeks. Its chance that it turned out to be your life, but you don't know happy I was to see an angel when I was down there on the ground." Pulling her in for a one armed hug, listening to his heartbeat silently for the longest time before she whispered one word:

"Angel."

"Hm?" He murred.

"Angel. That can be your nickname. I think you deserve one after this whole tirade."

"Angel, alright. If you like it, I'll be Angel." He chuckled. "That is, if you'll go out on a date with me. Say, after dinner on Friday?" Skipping classes and now planning to breach curfew, Scout was sure she was on a risky path – one that felt exciting rather than perilous.

But whoever said all the adventuring should be left to Gryffindors?

ooooo

For the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, victory was an exciting thing and celebrating took up all of practice. Having championed the school in Quidditch, they were to play Durmstrang's champion team next month. This was a prime topic at the table in the dining hall, the topic lost to distraction when Sabrina began making bird noises at Ivory, whose eyes were glued to a red-haired Ravenclaw gentleman as he passed. A chorus of laughter, nearly constant when Morton slipped out of his seat or Darian humorously mimicked some obscene gesture. They were an odd bunch: Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and two Slytherin thrown into colorful arrangement at the end of Ravenclaw's table. There were a few such groups, oddly, all of them taking up the ends of tables. Usually these were the keeps of Prefects (a rather unpopular title amongst students despite its authority) such as Ivory, Darian and Morton in our midst. Not that anything was wrong with those who bore the title, since they were cleverer and far more hilarious than one imagined when we relaxed. Ivory and Scout playfully flicked peas and corn at each other until a few got stuck in Rockwell's hair – then they all laughed heartily at how much he looked like a dog after a bath when he shook them out of his hair. Just the company of such students was exhilarating, but she hardly knew what to say when a box was dropped in front of her by way of a familiar flash of black and yellow.

"Are those chocolate covered frogs?" Rockwell, who knew what was in it before I'd had the luxury of opening it, spoiled the surprise. "Eww. I could go for the frogs, but not so much the chocolate."

"That was Arison Sedgel, right?" Questioned Ivory. "I wonder how he knew your favori… Hey, isn't he friends with Charlie?" Gesturing to the table next to ours, where I recognized the back of Charlie's head of red hair, sitting right in front of Arison (waving a chocolate frog on a stick vigorously while he spoke), with Justin to the left. Broderick joined us in staring not so discreetly.

"That hair." sighed Broderick, voice laden with infatuated.

"Those eyes." Scout near whispered, smitten with a boy who'd accept her odd eating habits.

"His smile." breathed Ivory, head tilted daringly as she watched the back of her paramour's head.

"'Dat ass." Interjected Dawn, effectively spoiling a moment cheesy enough to pour over nachos with her joke. "What? Don't be surprised, 'cause I'm the kid who laughed when Bambi's mom died."

"You monster!" Sabrina and Helena cried dramatically, synchronized amazingly well. The exchange itself was enough to pull the entire table into laughter again.

**Ooooo**

Not soon after, the hall was dismissed and the group parted ways, each heading to the dorms or common room to socialize and study. Dawn took Helena to the "bathroom" with her shortly before dinner ended – presumably to find a place outside where our half-vampire friend would be able to feed without witnesses. Broderick opted to haunt the commons rather than head to bed as usual, but it wasn't unusual and I thought nothing of it.

This left me to my nightly routine – surfing the internet, playing games and chatting up a few buddies while nibbling chocolate coated frogs before I fell asleep. The computer wasn't a comfortable pillow, but there was enough sleep medication in me to make sure I wouldn't feel a thing. Yet, somehow, I did.

Floating idly in a vivid dream where I was a caged bird, a subtle but insistent pawing at my cheek threatening to wake me. Finally, I cracked my eyes to stare right back into the slit eyes of an iridescent, blue Siamese cat.

It was… Broderick's Patronus?


	3. Pogonip

**[**Oh, I really do enjoy drama, and I hope you do too! This one is pretty damn dark, but it's an important plot piece now that I have an idea where I'm going. Enjoy!**]**

**ooooo**

Sleep-drunk and heavily medicated, I thought I could recognize a hallucination when I saw one. _No, this is real;_ I decided after I sat up and pinched myself. The cat was an ill omen. Professor Ellwood had taught it to him, Morton and I. I still remembered the instruction she'd given us:

"_Only use this spell when you're in dire straits," Spoke Ellwood, pale face tinted blue by the spell. She smoothed her boyishly short, dark hair back when she stood from crouching position, and stared into the eyes of her patronus – a skeletal beast that fit the description of a thestral. Something neither one of them had seen, but read of. The woman stroked it's sinewy muzzle, then whispered something to it. Dispatching itself with a mournful whinny, the creature galloped off and left no traces. Ellwood's hand hovered where it had lain against the ghostly beast's sunken cheek, dignifying herself by straightening her posture and clearing her throat. "Can you believe…?" She paused, as if debating whether to continue or not, "That was once a unicorn?"_

After I sat up (and took a swill of the dubious concoction Dawn brewed for me that I can only say promotes wakefulness), I rolled out of bed and threw on the robes lying on my chest. Fishing my wand from where it had been tangled amidst the, and kidnapping a broom that wasn't mine - I was sure my bunk-mate wouldn't mind. I didn't bother walking in my haste to escape the dorms, following the tilt of the stairs and turning around a corner. I stopped briefly to shake Morton awake, since he was napping in an armchair with his glasses askew.

"If I'm not back in an hour, get help!"

"What…?" But before he had a chance to get the question out I'd mounted the broom and was gone again, following the Siamese cat.

**ooooo**

It was a glaring oversight of the deadliest kind.

He'd just wanted to find Tiberius. Tiberius was his Siamese cat, a companion his parents had sent to him in his second year. Maybe it coughed hairballs up on his pillows, or mangled his shoelaces and ran away at every chance he was given… but Rick wasn't just searching for the sake of the cat, but because he couldn't just abandon the creature that lead him to his friends. It had been Dawn who returned the cat to him first, bedraggled and tired ("I took a sip." she'd said sheepishly). Then he'd stumbled upon Ivory and Scout tickling his belly in the Ravenclaw commons. Sabrina and her eccentric friend Lucille located him (in the loosest sense) the third time, making cat noises at Tiberius while he dangled from a tree. Then he overheard Scout and Morton arguing over whether Tiberius was named for Captain (James _T_.) Kirk or not, and he knew he'd found friends.

He'd known of Rocky's lycanthropy almost as long as he'd known about Dawn's (partial) vampirism. But it wasn't that he returned an anemic cat to him that tipped him off. It was his mannerisms, or more accurately, the symptoms he exhibited. Maybe it was the freakish amount of body hair under those long pants and sleeves, how he always knew just what was in unlabelled jars in Potions, or the way he occasionally scratched his ear using his foot.

It was more than likely the last one that had him convinced, and Rockwell admitted it to the only people that weren't wholly repulsed by him. Other than Rockwell's odd habits, there were fable-esque stories about the young man's past – in all of which the Australian transfer student's entire family was slaughtered. It was true that he had no family, but that was the result of a fire when he was far too young to remember. He had seen true tragedy, when he'd lost his Muggle lover to murder a year before coming to Hogwarts. A reputation preceded by death, as well as being sorted into Slytherin house when he transferred in third year ensured his time at Hogwarts would be lonely if Broderick hadn't been the one to stop Dawn from giving Rockwell the "Charlie treatment", a favor that had somehow avoided being returned for years – which is why he'd hoped to make use of the Slytherin boy's keen nose.

Morton, Scout, Dawn, Helena and himself had been made aware of Rockwell's lycanthropy, but never had they seen a transformation. This was due in part to the Wolfsbane potion, which stopped lycanthropes from transforming into full form and allowed them to retain control over their actions. He and Morton were responsible for the maintenance of this potion…. But the dark shadow, an undersized but no less powerful creature, lumbered below it was apparent there had been some mistake. Until sunrise, gentle Rocky would be lost to primal rage, a combination of unexpressed ire and feral urges from not having transformed (mentally) inyears. Clinging to the rickety branch of one of the tall tree in the garden, Broderick fully realized he needed help. It was no easy task to maneuver back into the messy crook where the branches of the trees met. He was thankful the creature seemed not to be able to scale trees – after all, there were only so many ways he could really protect himself, and he hadn't done himself any good in using _Defodio_ to fend off his feral friend. He hadn't wanted to harm Rockwell, but he also hadn't wanted to be bitten. Most wizards with silver-tipped wands wouldn't hesitate but the sleek and deadly wolf form could be damaged more severely by spells casted with such an implement, and he didn't want to_ kill_ the poor guy. He'd aimed carefully with his spell, injuring one powerful back leg – though it didn't seem to slow him down too much, since Rocky was moving too quickly for him to hit him. Sitting there in the tree, he'd casted another spell. One he hoped would bring help in time.

And he didn't mean help for himself.

**ooooo**

Despite being the most impulsive and unpredictable student Hogwarts had, Dawn had always had expert control over her hunger. She was a vampire, yes, but not full blooded. It was something a pureblooded mother had tried to hide in the beginning– but how, really, could she? Needing as much sustenance as most normal humans, all she could remember for the first few years on her life was hunger. It was an intense, gnawing hunger that would ebb away for a short while then return full force. She'd thought that was how everyone felt, and was well acquainted with the pleasantries of pain much earlier than she should have been.

Then, he was there. Her father, who was a capable teacher even if he had one leg ("Yeah, my dad's a Mexican pirate vampire." she'd touted to her friends when he came to visit). Of course, the hunting instruction was short, and at her mother's insistence she'd been advised to find donors. Her mother became her donor, until she'd become weak and was hospitalized. During that time, she was accepted to Hogwarts and enrolled – they hadn't delayed in getting rid of her after that episode, she'd always thought. Scout had been her first friend, first to know her terrible secret and first donor. It had been an accident, where the bookish, younger girl papercut her finger on a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and Dawn couldn't keep herself from feeding. Despite having to be rushed to the hospital wing because of what Madame Sheldon cited as a "Killer papercut", Scout had been cool about the whole thing. Keeping the entire ordeal quiet, and remaining entirely calm when she'd decided to intimidate the girl into staying that way. Scout had laughed (nervously) and offered her a blood-flavored lollipop.

Remembering how pitiful Scout looked when she passed out on the boat while the two of them helped row across the lake, the sense of déjà-vu was as deep as the paddle resting at the bottom of the lakebed.

Helena was considerably paler than she'd been when they'd come out the garden. The time between each shallow breath the unconscious girl took was pure torture. She hadn't meant to drink so much, but it was like she just… couldn't. Drawing her lips from the girl's arm had been like pulling two powerful magnets apart. It was something that had occurred only a handful of times. It was just a routine feeding – she hadn't even been too hungry, after Rockwell the night before. _There has to be something causing this shit_, she thought as she lifted her eyes to the moon. With the things that were going on tonight, it didn't surprise her to see the silhouette of some witch or wizard cross the path of the abnormally large moon. A howl cut through the heavy silence of the night, and her stomach dropped.

The great Dawn didn't get scared, but… _Maybe,_ she pondered over the face of her unconscious friend,_ it would be better to hang back for the moment._

**ooooo**

Flying a broom while under the influence of perception-altering magic or substances is punishable by expulsion at Hogwarts. I couldn't quite recall the penalty for texting while flying, not that I ever would, but it was likely just as severe. With the way I'd flown this week, I shouldn't have been in the air at all. It was all I could do to keep following the cat – and a stretch to stop myself from being caught in the tree it disappeared into.

"Don't get off the broom." I heard Broderick before I saw him, coming to a stop under the branches of the tree. Not unduly surprising, since I'd left my glasses.

"What's going on?"

"It's… Rocky."

"Rocky…?" A faraway howl pierced the night, and I tipped my head back to see the full moon through the lattice of naked branches. "Oh… oh, man. The wolfsbane potion, it didn't work?"

"We had to mess up somewhere. He's in wolf form, but he can't control himself." He swung his legs out over the trunk. "I can handle this, but I need your wand." Drawing my wand from behind my ear, I offered it to him and took the one he extended. Cold spread through my hand, but I kept my grip on the dark, knotted wood. The silver tip glinted dangerously in the moonlight. "Don't lose it. Now, listen: Dawn and Helena are in the garden too. Helena, she's… lost a lot of blood. I need you to get her to the Nurse's quarter. A-and make sure Dawn's okay." His voice wavered for a moment, and then he leapt out of the tree. He charged off, dark robes shuffling about his feet. It was honestly worrying, but I had to believe in him. Broderick could handle his own, when he put his mind to it.

When I realized I'd just been hovering there, I kicked off again. Moving quickly over the garden, I searched for that crown of scarlet hair, starting low then raising higher into the air. The speed with which I was flying and the exact height I flew at reminded me of… I felt a touch of vertigo, and my phone vibrated in my pocket. I focused on the ground beneath me intently. Or rather, I focused on the dark shape below keeping pace with me, seeming to be rushing toward something in the clearing around the greenhouse.

The dive that came afterward was really as risky as deciding to let go of the broom, but I'm going to toot my own horn here and say I'm the Ravenclaw seeker for a _reason_. Even if the landing knocked over a few of Professor Drake's medicinal herbs, I made it just before Rockwell burst into the clearing. While righting myself on my feet, I got just a glimpse at my two friends huddled there: Helena, lying limply in Dawn's arms. Dawn leaned over her, conscious but looking to be suffering from shock. Rockwell's fur bristled, and he bore his sharp rows of teeth while a rumbling growl built in his chest. It looked as if his back leg was bleeding. I didn't want to have to harm him, but Dawn and Helena were in danger, and they'd always protected me. I reached for the wand where it was supposed to be tucked behind my ear, but I felt nothing. The wand was gone. _Missing. _

Midnight really was the darkest hour, wasn't it?


	4. Louche

**[**I find cliffhangers fun to write, which explains the endings of the last two chapters. Maybe this will become a pattern? I'm not so great at writing action, but I'm trying! This is another chapter that's important for plot. **]**

**ooooo **

I couldn't blame him for not being intimidated by the broom, but at least it was useful enough for keeping him at bay.

"R-Rocky! C'mon mate, we're buddies!' I tried to force some humor into my voice, but it faded into desperation quickly. "W-we're… best friends!" The broom snapped under the force of his powerful jaws, unsurprising for the unnatural angle it had strained to already. He was quick, with more weight and obsidian fur than I thought possible. Lupine lips peeled back to reveal rows of pearly fangs, foam frothing at the edges of his deadly 'smile'. I reached up, peeling my glasses from my face and screwing my eyes shut. I didn't want to see when he…

_**KRRRRRRRRRRK!**_

Broderick's entrance brought down a corner of the greenhouse and sent pottery, plants spraying across the clearing.

"Homorphagus!" A bright light consumed Rockwell's form, and he rolled off to the side with a pained whine. The light around spread to the entire area, and I was sure everyone in the school would have heard about this in the morning. Broderick didn't hesitate to hurl himself forward, immediately throwing his cloak over our friend's shrinking form. It seemed as if he was brandishing two wands – true, I realized when he held out a hand with my wand in it.

"What kept you?" I squeaked, taking my wand then pulling myself to my feet using his arm. I peeled away to aim my wand at Dawn and Helena. "Rennervate."

"You dropped my wand somewhere, and we neede—"

"That was very impressive." A bold, womanly voice called out. The tall, straw-haired woman in red stalked toward her with arms crossed, flanked by the familiar faces of Morton, Sabrina and Ivory. Gryffindor's head of house, Professor Ashwyn Dennis, gave us a slow applause while advancing toward the slow waking forms of Helena and Dawn. "They'll both be fine. Cupcake here hasn't lost much blood, really. Morton, help Dawn." Patting Helena on the shoulder, and then summoning Sabrina to pull her up gently and escort her to the nursing wing. Morton approached, stopping beside me with his shoulders stooped sheepishly.

"I tried, but even thirty minutes was a bit much…" He passed on, and followed the History of Magic Professor's orders – with a bit of grumbling on rather independent Dawn's part. She was still concerned about Helena, and from the lingering look Broderick gave her, he was likely worried about her. He was more concern

"You're all in huge trouble, by the way." Professor Dennis spoke flatly. "It's not that I want to deduct 50 points each from Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuffs houses, or give you three weeks of detention, but I will… because a good number of professors are already keenly aware of the fact that there are students marauding about." She stepped in closer to Broderick and I. "Everyone can see you if you fly so high, Keigh. And I'm sure the entire school saw your impressive display, Broderick. Ivory, get Rockwell to the infirmary." Then, she stalked off on her own. Ivory hesitated before stepping forward, striding forward confidently but not taking her eyes off the ground. I could almost sense my sister's rage, made evident by the sound of a forceful crunch of glass under her Hello Kitty slippers. Looked as if I'd be without lookers for a while, but it wasn't the worst thing that could've happened.

"Scout, let's go." Broderick said, sounding incredibly tired. We walked back through the path Dawn and Helena had bore through the maze walls earlier that day, moving wordlessly along.

"Expecto Patronum, in latin, means 'I await a protector'." It just came to me, out of the blue.

"Scout, that's a weird thing to say and I'm tempted to say you're weird." He mumbled tiredly.

"Yeah, I am. But I was going to say I was probably the last person you should've called."

"No, I had a reason. One, I needed a wand to transform Rockwell with. Mine is silver tipped." He pulled his wand out so I could inspect the tip. "It could've killed him, and yours accepts anyone as its master." It was a peculiar property about my wand even I hadn't been totally aware of, only had an inkling of. How he'd figured it out before me was a mystery, but it wasn't exactly surprising. The guy was a genius, afterall. "Two…"

"Hol' on." Something ran across my foot, and I squatted and grasped almost instinctively. My hand was wrapped around something long and furry, and I reached out to pull it up into my arm. Tiberius purred gently in my arms, and I passed him to Broderick. "Were you guys out here looking for Tibby or something?" He nodded.

"Ahem. Two, I knew you'd find my cat – since Rockwell couldn't." We were coming upon the school, and I couldn't stop myself from snickering into my scarf.

"Is that really all? That seems like a silly reason to risk coming outside on the night of the full moon with a werewolf, Broderick." He stopped walking, and I moved past in the hallway. Looking back at him, I turned and shoved my hands in my pocket. "Is there something special about the cat?"

"I'll tell you more tomorrow, alright?" He said quietly as we reached the stairs, parting so we could head to our separate doors. I didn't even bother to meet the gazes of my dorm mates as I passed by, only remembering something when I lay down. I pulled my phone from my pocket, sliding it open and navigating the messaging dialogues until I was able to read the text I'd received from a number I didn't recognize:

**Fly safe, Scout. 3**

**~[ Angel]**

I guess a lot of people really had seen us out last night, huh?

**ooooo**

The wait was an excruciating thing. For the Ravenclaws, anyways.

Everyone else was pretty used to being in trouble. I knew it was only a matter of time, until we were called to the office of Headmaster Deetwood.

Dawn's energy replenished, she'd returned to heckling Professor Earl from the back of his classroom, but the rest of the students were still a little worse for wear. Helena really had been fine, and was just a bit pale... and tired, since they'd returned to school at three in the morning. Scout was quiet in her seat adjacent from me, much quieter than usual. Usually by this time she'd have mischievously taken my glasses, or added something to the collection of doodles on my binder.

"Are you okay?" I asked, prodding her in the shoulder with the eraser end of my pencil.

"Uh, yeah. Are _you_ okay, Rockwell?" That wasn't Scout at all. Maybe the scarlet sweater should have tipped me off, but I must have mixed up Ivory with her sister.

"Oh, um. Sorry, mate…"

"Don't think you're getting out of telling me _everything_ that happened last night." I gulped.

"How… h-h-how much do y- you know?" I whispered, stuttering through the sentence.

"Just enough to infer you're either a werewolf, or an unregistered Animagus." Ivory quipped matter-of-factly. "Taking the timing into consideration, you're a werewolf. The puncture wounds on Helena didn't escape my notice either." Her eyes flickered in Dawn's direction.

"You're scary observant. I have _no idea_ how you're not in Ravenclaw." After I said that, Ivory motioned in the direction of a certain bundle of cloak and books under the desk in front of her. If it weren't for the tips of a pair of Converse, I'd have never realized there was a person down there.

"Huh," I said, turning back to my work. Just like a Ravenclaw… leaving me with more questions than I had before, rather than answers. I'd been close to voicing that, when the intercom rumbled almost furiously:

"Broderick Astley, Dawn Jasper, Helena Wright, Keigh Stratton, Morton Knightly and Rockwell Letbark, please report to the Headmaster's office."


End file.
